Free Give In To Me by Lacey Alexander Page A

happened
     in that alley? And did that scare her? Well, what scared her a little was that somehow
     she’d found herself in a car with an intimidating man she didn’t know and who might
     somehow be involved with crime, or at least violent-seeming thug types. What scared
     her was that she was responsible, and capable, and smart—not the sort of woman who
     normally found herself in such a weird, uncertain situation. And okay, yes, if he
     was telling her there was definitely going to be more steamy heat between them—that
     scared her a little, too. Because she was unsure if she
could
handle it, no matter who he turned out to be.
    It comforted her a bit, though, to hear him now on his cell phone, talking to someone
     at the Café Tropico about her suit jacket. He sounded just as confident and take-charge
     as he had all along, but in a more reasonable, normal way. He sounded . . . smart,
     and smart was good. She respected and appreciated smart. Whereas stupid was just plain
     dangerous.
    Pushing the button to disconnect, he said, “Okay. Dennis found your jacket. You can
     pick it up anytime. He’s going to lock it in his office in the back.”
    “Thank you,” she said. It felt like the first thing that had gone right in a while,
     the first thing that had happened that made any sense.
    That’s when she realized, though, that they’d left the busy hotel-and-entertainment-laden
     part of South Beach and headed into the residential area that led to South Pointe.
     The neighborhood sat parallel to the less touristy part of the beach and was populated
     with apartments and condos, some in modern towers, others in smaller, older structures.
    “Um, where are we going? I thought we were having pizza.”
    It was then that he pulled into a parking lot that edged a three-story building the
     color of terra cotta. “My apartment. Getting the pizza delivered.”
    April just blinked. Was he serious? It was bad enough that he’d pretty much shoved
     her into his car without her consent, but did he really think she’d be okay with going
     to his place? “Um, I don’t think so, Mr. Wolfe. I thought you were suggesting a restaurant
     or I wouldn’t have agreed to this.”
    Putting the car in park, he turned off the ignition, as if this were a done deal,
     the mere act intensifying her irritation. Because apparently she’d gotten a lot more
     back in her right mind over the last few minutes than she’d been either of the times
     she’d ended up kissing him.
    And the small hint of a grin he flashed in her direction incensed her all the more.
     “First of all, Ginger, there’s no need to be so formal. You can call me Rogan.” He
     added in a wink. “And second—sorry, honey, but I’ve had a long day and I’m really
     not up for a restaurant. And you don’t look like you’re up for one, either.”
    She followed his gaze as it dropped from her face to her chest, dismayed when the
     very look made her breasts sizzle with desire, and further distressed to realize her
     silk tank was now stained with sweat and dirt, and her skirt sported a few dark smudges
     as well.
Oh Lord, if my clothes look so done-in, what on earth must the rest of me look like?
Though she guessed it couldn’t be
too
awful or he wouldn’t have been making out with her back there like there was no tomorrow.
    God, she still couldn’t believe that. Or this. She shouldn’t be here.
    “Regardless, I can’t just go into your apartment with you.”
    “Why not?” he asked. Like he couldn’t fathom a reason why she might harbor some trepidation.
    She flashed a pointed look across the dark car, trying to ignore how captivating and . . .
     downright sexual she found his eyes. “I . . . don’t know you,” she reminded him.
    “In ways you sure do.”
    Oh boy. Her stomach churned. As did the spot between her legs. Just when she’d thought
     maybe her unaccountable lust was beginning to die down. And his piercing reminder
     unnerved her a